


Finding Pleasure in Pain

by MyNameIsRochelleRae



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bipolar Disorder, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fight Club - Freeform, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-05-04 05:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5321630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyNameIsRochelleRae/pseuds/MyNameIsRochelleRae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And I love the way you hurt me,<br/>it's irresistible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Irresistible

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me for I have sinned.
> 
> I hope you do enjoy reading it.  
> Do leave me your opinions and constructive criticisms about the story for me.

Mickey Milkovich pocketed the $200 he won and walked out of the fight club. Sitting on a dirt covered bench right outside the club was a banged up looking Ian Gallagher. Ian was covered in cuts and bruises, his lip was cut open and his left eyes was so swollen he could barely open it, the rest of the injuries were covered up by the clothes that he was wearing, but Mickey knew the extent of those injuries. Mickey was in just as bad shape as Ian, or maybe slightly lesser. He felt his side sting sharply as he inhaled and the punch he got to his face resulted on a black eye that left him unable to open his right eye.

Ian got up and walked alongside Mickey, both of them said nothing to each other, they would wait till later on. They did not hold hands, they just walked side by side, close enough to feel each other’s heat. Mickey quickened his steps and Ian followed.  

Light flooded into their two-room apartment as Mickey turned the switch on. They both dumped their bags on the ground as Ian sat on the couch and turned on the television while Mickey went for the fridge and took two bags of ice. He gingerly placed it on his right eye, fighting back a groan as it stung for a bit until the cold started to numb that feeling. He then walked over to Ian on the couch and did the same on Ian’s left eye then sat down next to him. Ian turned to him and cracked a goofy smile, Mickey could not help but to smile back.

“So, good fight huh?” Ian asked, they both were not paying attention to what was showing on the television. It was some comedy-drama series about a family trying to survive on the South Side.

“Yeah,” Mickey replied, he was concerned about the injuries that Ian had received but said nothing, he knew that Ian would not want to talk about it and tried not to worry too much.

“What’s say you put that money to good use and buy us some dinner?” Ian suggested. Mickey picked up the phone and called for some pizza, their default food of choice. As he called, he watched Ian stand up and walk to the fridge to get them some beers and as Ian sat back down on the couch, his face twisted into a grimace and he let out a pained grunt, his right hand immediately pressed to his left side. Mickey grew concerned, maybe the injuries and bruises were much worse than they seemed.

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?” Mickey asked right after he put down the phone, his was glancing at Ian with concerned eyes.

“Yeah, it just hurts a little, you worry too much.” Ian laughed it off, but the laugh was cut short when Ian frowned and held his hand to his side. He passed the can of beer to Mickey and opened his, acting like nothing had happened. Mickey started to get more concerned, he did try to soften his blows on the younger boy but Ian had noticed it and had almost forced Mickey to hit harder.

“Ian, I’m serious, are you okay?” Mickey asked, placing a careful hand on Ian’s shoulder.

“Well, it does hurt a little bit, but you could help me kiss the boo-boos.” Ian’s eyes turned to Mickey, they had a mischievous sparkle to them. Mickey turned red and knew what Ian meant.

“But it would strain you even further Ian, let’s just go to bed and rest okay.” Mickey tried to get out of the situation, not that he did not want it, he was more than ready for it, but he was worried about Ian.

“I would rather fuck you.” Ian smirked when he saw Mickey go red.

“No, you have to go shower and go to bed. You are pretty banged up Ian.” Mickey cleared his throat and chastised the younger boy.

“I should not be the only one then.” Ian smirked as he pulled Mickey to him. Mickey blushed as he tried to pull away.

“Ian, you’re hurt. I want you to get better.” Mickey pulled out Ian’s warm arms and pulled money out his wallet. He knew what was about to happen. Popping open the door, he stuck a little post-it note on the wooden door and closed it back up. Ian was standing right behind him, face smug. He knew he won. He never lost at this fight.

 

No other words were needed, Mickey tilted his head up and met Ian’s hard kiss. They both wanted it, needed it. Ian peeled Mickey’s shirt off him and started to run his hands up Mickey’s lean body. It was a wonder why Mickey never built up such bulky muscles but was still so strong. The older man moaned into Ian’s warm mouth.

Their tongues met and moved against each other in rhythm. A string of saliva linked them after they pulled away to catch their breaths. Ian’s lustful stare up Mickey’s body pulled them both over the edge. Mickey threw himself at Ian, kissing the younger man while pulling them both to the other room. They bumped into a shelf and heard glass break. It was probably the vase, but it was not of their concern at that moment.

They stumbled into the bedroom when Ian stopped touching Mickey and let him go. Mickey was confused. He tried to speak, but Ian stopped him.

“Ah ah ah. You have been such a bad little boy. Look at these bruises you gave me.” Ian beckoned the confused Mickey forward. “Over my knee, time to give you a good spanking so you learn your lesson.”

Mickey did as he was told, he felt himself grow even harder, but he said nothing. He liked the punishment. God, he loved the way Ian hurt him. Mickey felt Ian’s hand slip under his pants and rubbed his butt. Then the soft tug as his pants were pulled off. Mickey buried his face in the bed sheets as he heard Ian snicker.

“Ready?” Ian whispered into Mickey’s ear. His cock jumped in response. They both felt it.

Smack. A hard slap against Mickey’s cheeks. A moan.

Smack. Another hard slap in the same spot. Another loud moan.

Smack. The pain and pleasure start to melt into a sweet sensation. The tingling was pulling him further down the abyss of pleasure. He moaned wantonly into the bedsheets.

Mickey was expecting another smack, but there was none. He turned to look at Ian.

“It was supposed to be punishment, but instead you moan like a slut. You love it right, you whore?” Ian sharply smacked his ass again before pulling him on his knees. Mickey kneeled on the ground in front of Ian. The rough tugging on his hair pulled him forward.

“Suck.” Ian’s voice was hard. Mickey obliged and swallowed Ian’s huge cock in his mouth and choked as he took it all the way. He tried to pull away, but Ian’s hand was holding him in place.

“Good boys take it all. You are a good boy right?” Ian’s voice was thick with lust. Mickey hummed in agreement. Ian’s cock throbbed in Mickey’s throat. Mickey wanted to gag but held it. Ian let Mickey’s head go and he pulled up for air.

“Come now, suck my cock like a good boy or you will make me very disappointed.” Ian pulled Mickey forward again. Mickey swallowed the throbbing cock in front of him down his throat and started to bob up and down. He loved the feeling of being filled up all the way down his throat. But there was another hole that wanted to be filled much more than his mouth.

Lubing his fingers up with the precum dripping from his hard cock, Mickey fingered himself and started to moan. The mixed pleasure from choking on a cock and fingering himself made him reach his climax. Ian suddenly stilled in his mouth, stopping everything and pulled himself out with a pop.

“My my, who gave you the permission to finger yourself huh? You really want to be filled up that badly?” Ian pulled Mickey up onto the bed. Mickey lay on his back, spreading his legs open for Ian.

“I am sorry. I just want to be filled to the brim, but my fingers are not enough. I need your cock. Please.” His voice was rough.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Ian reached for the bottle on lube that was sitting on the bedside table next to the bed. Mickey quivered in anticipation as he heard the bottle squirt lube onto Ian’s fingers. The same fingers that easily slid into him. The same fingers that brushed against that sweet spot.

“Oh god thank you so much.” His words melded together as he saw stars.

“Is this enough for you? You are so easily satisfied, I should stop now.” Ian stilled his fingers and slipped them out. Mickey immediately reacted and cried out against it. The pathetic sounds that came from the older man immediately changed to cries of pleasure as fingers were replaced with the thing he wanted most. Ian’s hot, throbbing cock.

Moans echoed throughout the room. Mickey was sure the whole neighbourhood could hear him crying out in pleasure. _To hell with them_ , he thought as another moan slipped out of him. There was a faint knock far away, but Mickey was too caught up in Ian that he did not hear it.

“God, you are so fucking hot Mickey. So fucking hot.” Ian wrapped his wounded hand around Mickey’s cock. When he started to move his hand, Mickey melted into a puddle. Mickey could not get enough. He was fully filled up and with every thrust, his sweet spot was hit. Every thrust kept hitting that right spot. The cries that came out of him only proved to pull him down further.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god. Can I cum? Please. Please. I need to cum.” The words melted together, he was just sputtering nonsense at this point. He was thrusting his hips up into Ian’s warm hand and he was filled to the brim with Ian. Like a firework on the fourth of July, he was more than ready to explode with passion.

“Cum.” Ian ordered. Ribbons of cum spurted out of his cock and landed on his stomach. He was a mess, repeating his thanks as Ian continued to pound into him. Even as Mickey settled, his prostate was still being assaulted. He continued to cry out.

Mickey’s cock started to harden again. Hard from the lazy strokes and the hard thrusting against his prostate. He felt like a dog in heat. He pushed against Ian, trying to get even more of the younger man. In response, Ian thrust against him harder, driving into him; impaling Mickey on his dick. Mickey’s cries grew coarser as he started to lose his voice and his mind from the pleasure.

The rhythm started to become erratic. Instead of pulling out all the way and slamming back in, Ian was pushing in and out in small, fast strokes. His grip on Mickey’s dick started to become more forcefully, tugging hard on it. Mickey almost stopped breathing as he felt another wave coming.

“Fuck.” Ian yelled into Mickey’s as he came into Mickey. He continued to push into Mickey and helped his lover finish.

They both lay next to each other on the bed, too spent to move. It was amazing. It was indescribable. It was perfect.

“The next time we fight, hit a little harder.” Ian joked.

“And then after that, fuck me a little more.” Mickey responded.

 

\--

 

The pizza delivery person walked up the stairs, hot pizza balanced on his hand and the other holding tight on the handrails, safely guiding him up the stairs. As he reached the apartment, he saw a little yellow post-it note and money on the front of the door.

“Unable to reach the door. Money and tip attached below. Leave pizza on the side of the entrance. Thank you.”

It was a cool $50; the delivery person pocketed the money and was happy with the amount of tip. As he bent down to set the pizzas on the floor, he heard moaning on the other side of the door. The moaning increased in volume and he started to blush.

He quickly knocked on the door and left.

_Guess I need a cold shower now._


	2. American Beauty/American Psycho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was crazy knowing how it all worked for them. Without the fights and the bruises, they would be nothing. They would be nothing without love.  
> If he could find a way to keep it like that forever, he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, you guys asked for a series right?  
> Also, I know it was ages ago but I guess here it is. Sorry? 
> 
> I hope you do enjoy reading it.  
> Do leave me your opinions and constructive criticism about the story for me.

Ian Clayton Gallagher stared at his senior’s body. Mickey Milkovich was beautiful. The way his body shifted as it prepared for every punch his body was landing on the punching bag. Sweat dripped down toned muscles, leaving the boy sweaty and sticky. Ian could not help but think he could make his senior so very sweaty and sticky in such a different way. He kept that thought to himself as the rest of the wrestling club members entered the gym.

Ian stood to the side along with the other juniors and current club members to let the newcomers to the club crowd around the ring. Some of the new members were scrawny with bright wide eyes. So bright and new. If the college experience did not destroy them, Mickey sure would. Ian nudged one of the other members and looked at their direction with a smirk on his face.

“Fresh blood,” Ian whispered loudly, venom on the tip of his tongue. The rest of the members around him chuckled and hooted in agreement. The newcomers turned back and threw looks of confusion. It was just then Mickey slipped into the ring. He was the introduction to the wrestling club before the trainer takes over. Bright wide eyes would be beaten dull today.

Mickey eyed up the new members from what amounted to his throne, the ring. His hard gaze ended on Ian. Mickey mouthed to Ian to get up there. Another member trailed behind Ian, the makeshift referee. He patted Ian on the back.

“You newcomers are in for a show. Up next in the ring, we have got the psycho fighting the king,” one of the old members hollered. The rest of them were pumped to watch the fight. The newcomers continued staring up, twinkles in their eyes.

Ian locked eyes with Mickey as he entered the ring. Another thought Ian kept to himself was just how perfect Mickey looked. Hands extended, they shook hands, as per etiquette.

“No holds barred,” Mickey’s soft tone of voice betrayed the hard exterior he wanted to portray.

“None at all,” Ian could feel adrenaline pump through his veins as he agreed.

The referee stood between them, made sure that they were both up for the match.

“Just start already man,” one of them from the outside called out, impatient. The referee let them loose.

Ian knew he was not as strong as Mickey, but he was fast. Mickey knew it too but by the time Ian threw a back fist, that knowledge became moot. Pushing forwards, Ian took that opportunity to continue throwing hard, fast punches. Disorientated from the punches, Mickey was pushed back into the turnbuckles. Mounting the middle ropes, Ian threw the first punch. He was trying to be careful, not to bruise his senior too much.

“One,” cheers erupted from the members. Ian really was trying not to bruise Mickey but the cheering pushed him to hit a little bit harder. Mickey’s eyes burned with anger but he was not fighting back. Ian was lying if he said he was getting turned on by the entire thing.

“Keep it up, this is almost believable,” Mickey whispered, voice coarse. Ian threw apologetic eyes as he threw another punch.

“Two,” another cheer from the crowd. They were counting the number of punches.

“A little bit harder,” blood started to drip down Mickey’s nose. Ian obliged. His knuckles connected with the sharp cheekbones that he desperately wanted to kiss instead. Ian threw another hard punch.

“Three,” the crowd cheered again. When they made up after this, it would be so worth the pain.

“This is the best worst thing,” Mickey smiled, blood running down his nose. Before Ian could throw another punch, Mickey head-butted Ian. Ian fell off the ropes and landed hard onto the ring. Ian rolled out of the way before Mickey could pin him down. Ian got back up on his feet and jumped away before Mickey could land any attacks on him. As Mickey rushed towards him, Ian realised that there was nowhere to go unless he wanted to corner himself. Mickey’s back elbow connected with his face. A sharp snap as his nose broke; Ian smiled. The fight meant everything right now.

As Ian struggled to keep his composure, Mickey delivered a clothesline to Ian, pushing Ian to the ground. Mickey mounted Ian and started punching him hard across the face. Even with the blood running down his face, Mickey was still so beautiful.

“What now hotshot?” Mickey punctuated each word with a punch. Ian could tell Mickey wanted the match over, wanted something else just as rough and hot.

“You win, now hurry up,” Ian swallowed some blood that trickled down from his cut lips. Mickey pinned Ian down as the referee counted down.

The cheers from the crowd meant nothing, Mickey pulled himself off Ian but eyes never left each other. Mickey called upon the vice-captain of the team to introduce the team and start stretching as they went to clean themselves up in the locker room.

 

Mickey pulled Ian into the locker room; grip so tight it left red imprints on his arm. He leaned against one of the lockers, holding Ian close.

“Fuck,” Ian smashed his hand into the metal locker right next to Mickey’s head. A broken chuckle drew Ian’s attention back to Mickey. “Sorry,” Ian caressed Mickey’s unbruised cheek.

“Shut up and kiss me, you fucking pyscho,”Mickey almost growled as he tugged Ian forward. Ian leaned in and locked lips with Mickey. His mouth tasted like iron and mint. Mickey moaned into Ian’s mouth.

“You boys okay in there?” A well-meaning member asked as they opened the door to the locker room; they quickly pulled away. No one had to know.

“Yeah,” Ian’s voice was breathless as he continued staring at Mickey.

“Tonight,” Mickey promised. Ian nodded, barely able to contain himself.

They walked out, eyes still trained on one another. One of Ian’s friends told him to let it go, it was just a match. Oh, how wrong he was. It was not just a match; it was their entire relationship. On Mickey’s side, it was the exact same thing. They were telling him to be a proper sportsman. He brushed them off and laughed.

This whole thing was crazy and he never wanted this to end.

 

“The newcomers are pretty decent this year; I remember how weak you were when you entered,” a senior came up to him, offering him a beer during the welcoming party. He was a friend. They may be hooked up once or twice, in the loneliness of the night. Maybe it was all the cough syrup they took.

Ian nodded as he took a swig from the beer. It tasted like shit but he swallowed it down anyway. Ian could tell that Mickey was looking at him from the corner of his eye. The sounds of chattering and booming music from the party were muted from the second level of the house.

“That fight with Mickey, though,” his senior continued talking. Ian turned to face his senior. He smiled to himself, knowing that Mickey would be angry at this move. He wondered how it would translate later when they were alone. His senior touched the cuts on Ian’s lips, “The hits were so hard, are you okay?”

“These are nothing, you already know that,” Ian moved the hand away. But his senior refused to move his hand. Ian was essentially forced to look directly at his senior.

“Let me help,” his breath smelled of beer. Ian pushed him away. Immediately, he was pulled away, unable to see how his senior reacted. Ian watched as Mickey dragged him away from the party. Mickey stalked out of the house and into his car, waiting for Ian to enter. The car ride was silent but Ian could feel the tension building.

 

Reaching Mickey’s one-room apartment just outside of the campus, Mickey struggled to open his door. The keys jangling as they shook in his hands. Ian stepped closer and soothed the shaking fist. The keys already cut into his hand. The key fit and the door opened.

Mickey pulled Ian to him, smashing their mouths together. It was violent but Ian laid a light hand on Mickey’s cheek. There were tears.

Ian stripped them both down, one article of clothing at a time as he led them into Mickey’s bedroom. Soft moans and cries emanated from the older boy.

“Shush, I know,” Ian laid Mickey’s naked body on the bed. There was no need for any foreplay, he gave Mickey what he wanted. That closeness he needed.

Using his precum to lubricate his already hard cock, Ian slowly slipped himself into the whining boy. There were still tears.

“You fuck,” Mickey finally spit out as Ian fully entered him. A hard slap across Ian’s face.

“I know,” Ian held onto the hand that slapped him against his stinging cheek.

“Move,” Mickey breathed out, his hips wiggling, wanting more.

“Okay,” Ian pulled out slowly then slammed back in, eliciting a loud mewl of satisfaction from his senior.

“Fuck you,” Mickey cried out in between thrusts. Ian smiled.

“I know,” Ian held on to Mickey as he plunged deeper into the older boy. Their heat and bodies melded together into one. “Mickey, this is perfect, you are perfect.”

Mickey could no longer form words, only the muffled moans into Ian’s mouth. The rhythm that they set for one another unbroken until they both found their climax.

 

“You know what Mickey?” Ian asked, facing the ceiling and raised his hand. With the pale glow of the moonlight, he saw the scabs that formed around his knuckles.

“What?” Mickey mumbled into Ian’s neck. Mickey was warm as he held on to Ian.

“I could do this forever, this feeling is irresistible,” Ian turned to face Mickey. His eyes were closed, long eyelashes brushing against Ian’s cheekbones.

“Which part?” Mickey whispered, running his roughened fingers down Ian’s arm. “The fighting or the sex?”

“Both, everything,” Ian wondered if they could have a future like that.

“You are a psycho,” Mickey’s voice grew softer; he was fading into the sweet realm of sleep.

“And you are goddamned beautiful like this,” Ian closed his eyes, ready to join Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how wrestling works. Please forgive any mistakes you see cause this information is all from the trusty Internet. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Forgive me if there are any spelling/grammar errors, do leave comments and constructive criticism for me!  
> Please let me know if you like what you're reading by leaving me a kudos and a comment!


	3. Centuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should you remember me, it should be because of what I have done well. Not my mistakes.   
> And you will remember me, for centuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series has been a blast to plan and write so far. It's crazy cause it was supposed to be a one-shot but some of you just wanted to see more. 
> 
> I hope you do enjoy reading it.  
> Do leave me your opinions and constructive criticisms about the story for me.

Ian glanced at Mickey. On the outside, the older boy looked fine. Smoking the cigarette and joking with the other members of the team. He could tell, however, that Mickey was not okay. His fingers that held on to the cigarette were shaking. The smile on his face looked forced.

Ian slid over to where Mickey was standing, and pulling Mickey’s free hand behind his back, he interlaced his fingers with Mickey. Glancing over, Mickey’s tense posture seemed to loosen with relief. Ian watched to see if any of the other members noticed it. They were too busy trash talking about the other team and their representative to care.

They were all standing outside of the school gym, smoking and just fucking around before the intra-school wrestling championship. Mickey was representing their college. He always did. He always won, and that was why he was called “The King”.

Ian never understood why Mickey hated competitions. He fought so well, fast and brutal, but during competitions, he shook with fear. The night before, Mickey was shaking in his arms. It took a while to calm him down. Ian did not speak to Mickey about it. He tried before; Mickey refused to speak, he diverted attention to other things to distract Ian. Usually, he used sex, and Ian was more than willing to be distracted.

 

Sneaking in a hot kiss when no one was looking, tasting of tobacco and lust, Ian let Mickey go for the match. There were no words exchanged. It seemed pointless to fill the air that needed no filling. Ian quickly walked up the bleachers in the gym and sat next to the rest of the wrestling club team to watch the match.

Mickey was mercilessly brutal, but between punches exchanged, Ian saw hints of something else in his movement. They were not as precise. He was being careless, taking unnecessary hits. The bruises from their fight during the first week of school two weeks ago were just starting to fade away, but it seems like that would not be the case again. There was never any doubt that Mickey would win, but his moves seemed sluggish and he just looked distracted. This time, the change in Mickey’s behaviour did not go unnoticed. There were whispers of something from the seniors who knew him longer than Ian did.

Whispers about a trainer named Terry; who only stayed a year. It was hard to catch the rest of what they were saying over the cheering. The opponent was thrown into the ground and was pinned, but before the referee would call the match, he escaped. The crowd died down enough to where Ian could hear his seniors talking again. The trainer, Terry, was very hard on all of them, hardest on Mickey the most. Made them train so hard and fight each other every practice. Not fake punches but real matches. Mickey lost a match and Terry lashed out. He was taken out of the school because of that incident. Ian looked at Mickey and at the intensity of how he fought; he knew he had to ask about Terry.

Ian wanted to listen in more but the crowd went wild and he watched as his seniors bounced up from their chairs, whispers stopped halfway and turned into screams. Mickey won. Ian stood up as well and clapped. He would congratulate Mickey in private.

 

More forced smiles, Mickey was no longer shaking but he looked distant instead. The wrestling team met him outside the gym where they busted open beers and drank them in celebration. Ian was the last to approach Mickey after everyone else was done congratulating him.

“What happened?” Ian asked; hand on Mickey’s shoulder. He realised that there were notes of anger in his tone and some of the other members looked over. One of them took a step in their direction before Mickey brushed his hand off and looked away.

“You already knew I am not good with public matches,” Mickey knew what Ian was talking about, it was clear. He was defending himself.

“Then tell me who Terry is,” Ian moved closer towards Mickey. Ian was close enough to hear Mickey’s breath hitch and the hard swallow that he took to clear his throat. Mickey’s shorter frame shook with the intensity of a leaf against a hurricane and eyes brimming with tears struggled to hold eye contact with Ian. Instant regret twisted Ian’s gut. There was nothing worse than watching Mickey in pain. He reached out to touch Mickey’s hand but Mickey recoiled from Ian, a look of betrayal plastered on his face. “I am sorry Mickey.”

“Save it,” Mickey left for the car. Ian quickly trailed behind.

As soon as the door was closed, Mickey sped out of the school, leaving the rest of the club still celebrating. Knuckles white on the steering wheel, Mickey looked dead ahead of him and Ian dared not speak.

 

“Mickey, please,” Mickey slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it behind him, leaving Ian locked out. From the thin wood, Ian could hear Mickey sobbing. His heart wrenched. “Mickey, let me be with you, please.”

The house seemed to display a similar sadness. Barely even dusk and no light seemed to shine in. Sobs carried from across the door all around Ian. He stood there, feeling useless.

The soft clicking of the door was closely followed by the emergence of the sobbing Mickey. Tears streamed down his cheeks and burned as Ian wiped them away.

“I broke my ribs during a match and he lashed out at me,” between the tears that wracked through him, he choked out. “It was one mistake, and that was all it took.”

“What?” Ian was confused but wrapped his arms around his senior.

“Terry,” Mickey’s voice shook as he said the name. Ian held him a little tighter as if to protect Mickey from a name. In response, Mickey laid his head against Ian’s chest. “He was an amazing wrestler, a legend as some people remember him. I was supposed to be his protégé, but I was remembered as his biggest failure.”

“If you were to be his protégé, why did he lash out at you?” Ian was trying to make the pieces fit. Mickey had slowly started to calm down, taking in deep breaths.

“I did not want to be a wrestler, a fighter; I wanted to do something else, art maybe? My teenage dreams were ripped away from me, but I tried to follow in his footsteps,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s chest; Ian strained to hear the words, the story that was all off. “He pushed me, made me stay back in school every day to train. Every day, new bruises. My body never truly healed.”

“Fuck,” Ian whispered against Mickey’s smooth skin. They fought and gave each other bruises and as much as Ian loved the fight, he hated how broken Mickey would look afterwards. To imagine his angel like that all the time made his throat close with anger.

“It was fine, there was nothing wrong,” Mickey lied unconvincingly. “During a match just like this one, I slipped up. My body just stopped moving, it was tired from the constant practice. The opponent hit my ribcage and broke a few bones. Terry did not let me stop, told me if I did, I was a piece of shit. I needed to win to prove myself to him.”

Ian was shaking with anger but Mickey’s soft touch calmed him down. He let his senior finish the story.

“I lost that match, the only match I ever lost. He was upset. At first, he just berated me, called me a useless freeloader in front of everyone. Then he hit me. He did not stop hitting me,” Mickey was the one who was trembling now. “It took a few of the other seniors on the team to pull him off of me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Ian closed his eyes because all he saw was red.

“Terry was my father,” The words were so soft.

“Mickey, fuck, I am so sorry,” Nothing could describe the crushing sadness that filled the atmosphere.

“No, I think I just overreacted. It was nothing,” Another blatant lie. Still covering up for mistakes and weaknesses.

Ian held Mickey and kissed his forehead. Ian could tell Mickey was crying again. As he moved his hand to comfort the crying boy.

“No, do not dare treat me like a broken toy,” Mickey’s eyes burned with indignation. “I do not need your pity.”

“Then what do you want?” Ian knew Mickey never truly healed from this wound, this bruise.

“Fuck me,” With that, Ian closed the gap between them. Ian knew Mickey was deflecting more questions, but he let it go; this was more than he expected Mickey to tell him.

 

The bruises on Mickey’s skin stuck out against the harsh light of their room. Feathery soft kisses on them, Mickey moaned. There were many bruises; both newly inflicted and those that were still healing. The bruises on his thighs were purple and as he touched them, cries rang out. Ian slipped inside of the wriggling body beneath him as an apology; another cry, this time of pleasure. God, he is beautiful, Ian thought to himself.

The room echoed with the cries and moans of satisfaction from the senior. Ian knew that Mickey was still upset, has been for so long, but at least that night he could make Mickey forget. When Mickey slept, Ian laid by his side watching the sleeping man with moonlight barely illuminating his peaceful face. He brushed a stray lock of jet-black hair behind Mickey’s ear and kissed his forehead. Closing his eyes, Ian finally found sleep.

 

Ian woke to a muffled voice speaking outside the door. Patting the side of the bed that was empty, he got up, groggy eyed to find Mickey in the living room on the phone.

“Yes, I won the competition,” Mickey’s strained voice confirmed. It was his father on the phone. “I did what you taught me, yes. Punches and all.”

Ian walked over to where Mickey was and held him tightly. It was still early and with the senior only in just boxers, he was freezing to the touch. Mickey leaned his head against Ian’s chest.

“Yes, I have been training regularly. Not every day but enough,” Mickey’s voice grew ever more upset. His father was poison and this was the proof. “I will try to train more.”

“Morning beautiful,” Ian whispered in Mickey’s free ear as he played with Mickey’s messy bed hair. Mickey kissed Ian on the cheek.

“I have to prepare for classes now,” Mickey hastily ended the call and set his phone down on the counter nearby. They exchanged deep kisses and Ian felt Mickey’s frustration melt away in his arms.

“Congratulations,” Ian whispered, breathless after pulling away.

“For what?” Mickey rested his head on Ian’s chest, smiling.

“Winning the match yesterday, I still have not congratulated you yet,” Ian laughed at his late greeting. Mickey joined in.

 

“You know something, Mickey?” Ian got Mickey’s attention during lunch. They sat under a tree in the courtyard.

“Yeah, what?” Mickey looked up at Ian, a mouthful of tacos. Ian laughed as he wiped some cheese off Mickey’s chin.

“You are so much better than your dad,” Ian set down his food and stared at Mickey, admiring his beauty. He watched as Mickey flinched at that name. "You really are."

"So what Ian? So what if you think I am better?" he challenged the words as he stared at his food.

"Rise above him, create your own legacy that would be remembered for centuries," the plan of the fight club was on top the of Ian's mind. Mickey stared at him intently.

"Create my own legacy?" Mickey repeated slowly, trying to slowly digest those words.

"Make your own fight club, own it; make people remember your name," Ian leaned back against the tree trunk, lazily staring at Mickey.

"Maybe," Mickey went back to eating.

"Maybe," Ian echoed the word, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love Fall Out Boy, their lyrics have so much meaning. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Forgive me if there are any spelling/grammar errors, do leave comments and constructive criticism for me!  
> Please let me know if you like what you're reading by leaving me a kudos and a comment!


	4. The Kids Aren't Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And in the end  
> I'd do it all again.  
> I think you're my best friend.  
> Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?  
> I'm yours.  
> When it rains it pours.  
> Stay thirsty like before.  
> Don't you know that the kids aren't al-, kids aren't alright?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took too long to write. I am so sorry. 
> 
> I hope you do enjoy reading it.  
> Do leave me your opinions and constructive criticism about the story for me.

School was useless. If not for the obligation thrust onto him by his family, Ian would not be in school. It was not that he had dreams he wanted fulfilling, he just found the idea of school to be pointless, Ian thought to himself as he stared out the window. They were overhead the aqua blue.

His father was a useless alcoholic, his oldest sister was a wreck who thought she could handle everything, and his older brother was too smart for his own good; his younger sister made so many mistakes, his younger brother was an asshole and his youngest brother, was, well, young. Ian was the backup plan if his older brother could not make it. Coupled with the fact that he had no dreams of his own and how he played second fiddle to everyone in the family, Ian had no direction in his life.

If it were for Mickey, though, Ian would do anything. Ian wondered if this was love as he glanced at Mickey, who was sleeping with his head resting against the cool interior wall of the plane.

Mickey wanted Ian to come home with him for Thanksgiving. Ian wanted to go anyway; he wanted to meet the man who moulded Mickey to be the way he is now. To meet the man who ruined Mickey. Terry, Ian repeated in his head, he wanted to meet the man who was never a real father to Mickey.

Ian shifted his attention to the sleeping figure, who moved closer towards him.

 

A bubbly girl bounded up towards Mickey and jumped onto him, hugging him tightly.

“Mandy,” Mickey dropped his bags and spun her around. The pure delight in his eyes melted Ian’s heart as he picked up the bags.

Mickey set the girl down after exchanging statements how much they missed each other.

“Mandy, this is Ian. Ian, this is Mandy,” brief introductions to each other. Ian nodded at Mandy with a smile. Another Milkovich. It seems like she had a good relationship with her older brother. They hooked arms as they walked towards her car.

Mandy talked fast, narrating to Mickey about her life while he was away. She talked about meeting her boyfriend in the club and about how they had hot sex in the back of his car. Mickey chastised her about what was appropriate for her. She should focus on her first year in community college and not bother with these things. She scoffed as she occasionally looked back at Ian. He was comfortably sprawled across the back seat, as comfortable as you can be in a second-hand beat-up sedan.  

“Seems like I'm not the only one with a boyfriend, though,” Mandy casually throws the comment in the air. Mickey looked away, he was blushing, and Ian could see it in the passenger side mirror. The setting sun framed him perfectly. Ian just chuckled, neither denying nor agreeing to the statement. “I guess not then.”

 

“Dad, Mickey is finally home,” Mandy burst through the door before slamming Mickey’s bag on the ground. She had been adamant she carried them even though she struggled with it and he laughed at her before ruffling her hair. An inside joke he presumed.

Terry Milkovich looked like a miserable man, hair grey, and a noticeable paunch as he stood up from the chair facing the television. It could be his bias against the man but Ian did not want to think anything of someone who made his Mickey cry.

“Dad,” Mickey nodded as he picked up his bags, ready to go to his room. Anyone could already tell there was animosity in the air.

“How is my winner?” Terry asked, patting Mickey on the shoulder. Mickey obliged with a tight smile on his lips and hugged his dad. “Who is this anyway?”

“My friend, Ian,” Ian nodded, grabbing his bags and following Mickey into his room.

“Why is just a friend here on our Thanksgiving holiday?” Terry’s voice was suspicious and Ian could see that Mickey was starting to panic.

“Oh, Ian said that it was not convenient for him to return home for the holidays, so Mickey offered to let him celebrate it here,” Mandy watched her brother from the hallway as she lied so perfectly. Terry seemed placated from that answer and went back to watching television.

“Hey, it will be okay,” Ian pulled Mickey into his arms and whispered into the black mop of hair. Mickey nodded slightly. Mandy walked in and closed the door. Ian was not sure if Mickey was shaking from fear or from anger.

“He is your boyfriend then?” Mandy smiled, sitting on Mickey’s bed.

There was no use denying it, there were caught. They stared at each other, blank eyes and shallow, bated breaths. They slowly turned towards Mandy to see how she would respond.

“Why the serious faces, boys?” Mandy giggled. “So you both are gay, I do not particularly care.”

Mandy sprung up, off the mattress and hugged the two of them.

“You better not hurt my brother, though, you stranger,” Mandy threatened, her smaller stature and overall non-threatening demeanour nearly made Ian laugh. He nodded, biting his lips. “Although, I doubt it would be you hurting Mickey. Terry may not be so agreeing to this new piece of information.”

Mandy looked at the closed door, eyebrows scrunched together.

Ian silently wondered how they would handle if Mickey’s father found out if he was gay. If he flipped out over a wrestling match, who knew what he would do when he finds out something so much more serious.

All three of them agreed to keep it quiet with Mandy looking fiercely protective of her older brother. Ian quietly whispered a prayer he did not actually believe in. With a quick peck on Mickey’s cheek, they exited Mickey’s room.

 

“Come over here son, look at these old pictures of you wrestling,” Terry walked over to a wall with a shelf full of trophies and framed pictures. “I am so glad that you won the competition, first of the season.”

“I just came back dad; can we talk about something else?” Mickey’s voice was fatigued, but there was some edge to it. He was tired of wrestling, everyone in the room could tell. Just not Terry.

“Nonsense, what else is there to talk about?” Terry brushed it off and pointed at an old photo of Mickey holding on to a trophy. He won the state wrestling competition in the high school category. Mickey briefly looked at the photo then turned away. Mandy threw a look of sympathy to her older brother.

“Look at this one, your form was excellent here. Reminds me of when I was young,” Terry went on. He looked at even older photos and trophies. Being a former wrestler himself, he amassed a lot of trophies and wins. “Glad to see that you are at least maintaining your abilities since I am not there to train you anymore.”

The tension in the room was palpable; Ian struggled to swallow. His seniors were not lying then; Terry really did train them hard.

“Yeah, sure,” the anger in Mickey’s voice was apparently still not obvious enough to Terry.

“I should be there still, training all of you. You all were useless without me. Still probably are,” Terry gave what he thought was an off-hand comment. _Oh, wrong move_ , Ian thought to himself.

“Terry, you are a piece of shit,” Mickey finally burst. It was with the intensity of not just this one instance, but it came from the deep-seated issues that already existed between the father-son pair.

“Say that again, Mickey, I dare you,” Terry looked Mickey in the eye, slowly enunciating every word. The pair reached their boiling point and Ian and Mandy braced themselves for the impact.

“Terry, you were the worst trainer. In fact, you were only just a trainer, not a father,” Mickey’s voice echoed throughout the house. His voice quivered with anger. “Remember the time I lost? What you did to me. Because I am pretty sure you do not! You only want to remember me as a winner. For your own pride!”

“You had better take back what you said Mickey, or else,” Terry’s face turned cherry red and his fists were clenched. Ian tried to intervene, put his hand on Mickey. It was too late; Mickey was already fired up.

“You heard me, Terry. You just used me to fulfil your own lifelong legacy of being a wrestler. I was never your son; I was just another trophy to fill your wall. You treat Mandy and me like shit, and you only do what is best for you. You are a piece of shit,” Mickey continued ranting.

 

A punch came soon after the silence. A disgusting crunch as the calloused fist met Mickey's nose rang through the house. For that second, it was silent, not even a breath taken in or released. Then it began.

Ian stepped forward and returned that punch to Terry. The older man stumbled back, a look of complete shock on his face.

“Mickey,” Ian turned around from the offender, fell to his knees and tried to inspect Mickey’s injury. Broken nose with blood flowing down, staining his black shirt. “Fuck, are you alright?”

“Fine,” Mickey wiped the blood off his nose with his shirt, he winced as the fabric touched his skin. Ian held Mickey’s hand and kissed his forehead, knowing that Mickey was probably in pain. All the while, Terry stood there, watching the whole thing.

“Fucking hell, Ian is your gay lover,” Terry bellowed, face redder than ever. “Fucking Christ.”

There was no need to try to defend that anymore.

“Yeah, you fucking cunt, what are you going to do now?” Ian rose up even when Mickey pulled his hand back, trying to reign him in.

Terry did not reply; all he did was tackle Ian. A whoosh of air escaped his body was his head connected with Ian’s stomach. Ian head-butted Terry to get out of his iron-tight grip. The older man groaned but did not stop his attack.

“You were always a failure of a son. First, you lost a wrestling match, then now you are gay,” Terry directed these verbal attacks at Mickey while throwing punches at Ian. “Now, you come into my house and throw your homosexual boyfriend at me."

“Shut up, you failure of a man,” Ian landed an upper punch on the abusive father. Mickey stared at Ian; Ian could tell he was scared. Mandy sat by his side, holding a rag to his nose. She, too, looked frightened. It was then Ian really soaked in the severity of the issue. This was normal place in this household.  

“You do not get to talk to me in my household, you gay abomination,” Terry surged with fury as he lunged for Ian. _Get out of here,_ Ian mouthed to Mickey. Mickey scrambled up and ran to his room, Mandy trailing behind, constantly looking back with a confusing look on her face.

Ian blocked most of Terry’s punches but was pushed back. For a miserable old man, he could still fight. Ian tried to fight back but as he lifted his arms to prepare for a punch, it left him open. Terry took the punch and all Ian heard was shattering of glass, fast footsteps then concerned screams. His vision blurred then was lost.

After a faint moment of darkness, pain shot through his body and he got up with a gasp. Ian was pushed out of the window, falling into the pitch-black streets. There were, even more, screams now, not concerned anymore, but angry. Mandy looked at him from the broken window, tears streaming from her face.

“Go,” Mandy yelled, restraining her father. He was still on his rampage. Mickey grabbed the bags he previously set from the door and pulled Ian off the ground. When Ian stood up, he realised where all the pain and wetness was from. Shards of glass lodged themselves in him when he took the fall. Limping forward, he continued watching Mandy. Terry swung at her face then walked away from the window. _It is fine_ , she mouthed to him.

 

Ian collapsed on the bed, making sure not to stain it too much from all the blood. Mickey said nothing throughout the entire walk to the nearest motel. The room was dark and dingy even with the room light on. The sheets were rough and it smelled of bleach. Better than the musty smell of the room.

Mickey disappeared from his side, and Ian wondered if this was okay. If this right now, their lives right now were okay. It was not of course, but he liked to think otherwise. _This is normal, right?_  

Mickey came back, with a bottle of vodka they packed earlier and a pair of tweezers in his hand. He sat back down next to Ian on the bed. He took a swig, the liquid splashing around in the bottle let Ian know. Mickey then lowered it to hand over to Ian who also took a swig.

With shaky hands, Mickey started pulling out the shards stuck in Ian’s skin. Ian said nothing and tried not to react to the pain. Mickey was already on edge, this was already doing nothing for his nerves.

“Hey, it is alright,” Ian reached behind him and patted Mickey’s thigh.

“No Ian, you keep saying that, but it is not. It is not alright at all. None of us are. This situation is not,” Mickey finally spoke, his voice quivered. “Should we really be together?”

“Fuck, Mickey, what the fuck are you talking about?” Ian winced as he got up, but he had to. He stared into Mickey’s eyes; they were watering.

“Well, you see what it is like being with me. Having to hide us from the team, from my own father,” the tears choked up in his throat. “Maybe it would be better if you left me.”

“Mickey, I would this all again if it meant that I am yours,” Ian wiped away the falling tears with his fingers. “Hey, Mickey?”

“Yeah?” Mickey finally met his eyes.

“I love you,” Ian whispered. The words they never exchanged. Ian watched the expression change on his face. From regret to happiness.

“Ian, you do not need to force yourself to say it, we promised,” Mickey tried to hide the faint smile on his lips by turning away. Ian tilted his face back and kissed him.

“I am not; I do mean it. I love you,” Ian confessed again after breaking from the kiss. Mickey said nothing for a while and Ian started to worry. The older boy laid Ian back on his front and continued pulling the glass off his back until he was done.

Ian felt crushed but kept quiet. They both agreed that they would only say those words if they were ready. Maybe Mickey just was not ready yet.

“I love you too,” the words were barely audible, but it was enough to make his heart swell. “What if it gets worse, though?”

“When it rains, it pours, but I will be with you,” Ian spoke into the pillow. His back started to sting again. The older boy was crying; the salt in his tears burned when they touched the wounds. “Hey Mickey, lie down next to me.”

Ian moved to the side, allowing Mickey to lie down next to him and let him cry until he fell asleep.  

_I love you, Mickey._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I wish more people would acknowledge my work but slowly.   
> So yeah, sorry for kinda ranting. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!   
> Forgive me if there are any spelling/grammar errors, do leave comments and constructive criticism for me!  
> Please let me know if you like what you're reading by leaving me a kudos and a comment!

**Author's Note:**

> Just kidding, I write sins, not tragedies.  
> **Untrue, I write sins AND tragedies.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> Forgive me if there are any spelling/grammar errors, do leave comments and constructive criticism for me!  
> Please let me know if you like what you're reading by leaving me a kudos and a comment!


End file.
